The story of Mugsy the wondermutt...

I'm writing this after having a couple weeks to finally deal with and accept the sad end of a valued life.

About 6 years ago, I decided I wanted a dog. I've always been an animal lover and it had been years since I had had a dog. I missed having one around the house.

Being a true believer in rescuing animals from the pound, I set off to find my perfect "souldog". I went to the pound 2 times a week, for 6 months. It was always a sad ordeal, I wanted to take them all home, but the realist in me always won out. I knew somehow that when I found my perfect dog, it would be right.

I walk in for my bi-weekly scan of the animals, and there he was. A bassett hound/golden lab mix. He had to be the oddest looking dog I had ever seen, but something in his eyes told me that my search was over. I went home, got my youngest and took her down to see what she thought. Mugsy left the pound that day and came home with us.

When we visited him at the pound, I didn't realize that he was still sedated from getting fixed. I thought he was just really low key and calm for a 1 year old dog. WRONG!!! After the anesthesia wore off, boy did we have another dog on our hands.

Mugsy was quite the novelty. He weighed 97 pounds, and had this huge lab body on bassett legs. He looked exactly what you would think a lab/bassett would look like if they were morphed into one dog. Several people thought he looked like a science experiment went horribly wrong. But, dumb and stubborn as he was, he was our mutt and we loved him.

Over the next 6 years, he was just part of the family. He was a great family dog, with the perfect temperament. I found out, bassetts are notorious for being stubborn and he took this to the extreme. Every day, he would get in the garbage. If he accidentally got outside, he would not listen at all. If you called him, he would look at you for a few seconds, then take off. He'd do whatever he did for a couple hours and then would come flop on the porch when he was ready to come back in. I had given up on even trying to catch him.

3 weeks ago, I sold my car. The kid who bought it hit Mugsy with the car as he was leaving my block as I watched in horror. After 2 visits with two vets, I was assured he was ok. Banged up, but ok. 2 days after being hit, he seemed to be getting better. If I asked him if he wanted to go outside, he would get up slowly, wag his tail and get a little excited. He wouldn't walk too far without tiring out, but he was getting better right?

4 days after getting hit, he started vomiting a lot. This initially wasn't a huge concern as he always had a touchy stomach. We just attributed it to the meds. 6 days, and now he hadn't eaten since being hit, was very lethargic, still vomiting and now was bloated as well. My daughter works for a vet and they agreed that perhaps he had some damaged intestines and they could just cut away the necrotic portion and sew together the healthy ones, and voila... Mugsy should be home the next day and start healing again.

Thursday was one of the hardest days of my life. When I dropped Mugsy off to my daughters vet, I spent 20 minutes kissing him and hugging him. I didn't want to leave him, but they weren't going to do the surgery til after hours. For some reason, when I looked back at him, something in his eyes just told me he wasn't going to make it, even though for all outward appearances, he looked fine.

She called me at 3 and said they had time to get him in surgery right then. So I was going to go back soon as my youngest got home from school at 4. The middle daughter called me five minutes later, and I knew when I saw her number show up, it couldn't be good. She said when they opened him up, he had a gallon of urine in his stomach (hence all the vomiting and bloating), and that more than 1/4 of his bladder was necrotic. She said they could try to repair it, but the surgery would be very invasive, not a good chance of recovery, and that the potential for suffering and ultimate death was fairly good. She said I had to make a decision now because he was open on the table. I lost it! I was bawling my eyes out picturing his face as I was leaving him there and couldn't get the words out to put him down. She was crying too and said they would bring him around so my youngest and I could get there to say goodbye.

When we got there, he opened his eyes and knew we were there. The 3 of us cried and held him and kissed him and I wasn't ready to give up yet. I called another vet of mine and had her explain to him what was going on to get his opinion. He only confirmed it would be a long painful ordeal and the odds were not in his favor.

Back in we went, and Mugsy was sleeping soundly with the youngest girl petting him and crying. The middle girl went and got the shot and as we all broke down, she administered the shot. I told her I couldn't stay in there, but she said it would be peaceful and he would just slowly stop breathing. Which is exactly what happened. I have such a profound respect for my daughters strength. I know she euthanasia's animals everyday, but this was our dog.

Driving home, me and the youngest couldn't even speak and just sobbed. Walking in the door was the hardest. You know, we are so used to having to open the door carefully so his fat ass didn't sneak out and then close it real quick. Not too mention seeing him smile, yes, he really smiled when we came home, and wagging his tail.

I poured myself a big drink of Courvassieur and fell out from pure exhaustion. The next morning was even worse. Expecting to go through the daily routine, having him sit under the kitchen table with that guilty look on his face as I cleaned up the garbage he had gotten into in the night, petting him while I made my coffee and putting him outside to eat and go to the bathroom. Everything around the house made me cry.

It has now been almost 3 weeks and I am just now adjusting to things at home, even after a 10 day vacation. The day before I came home, I got very sad and cried thinking about arriving to a Mugsy-less house.

We had Mugsy cremated, and getting his ashes home was yet another round of tears for the house, but I think it was some closure we needed. I'm just now getting back to myself. I never in life would have imagined I would take this whole thing so hard. I keep reminding myself that life is for living and I need to get over it. Easier said than done.

Writing this tribute to the mutt I loved is a part of my healing process. He can never be replaced in my heart and I know he is now getting in all the garbage he wants and playing in the open fields with all my childhood dogs I loved and miss.

You are very missed Mugsy, and we all know that you know how much we love you!